


Colors Changing Hue

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now I understand what you tried to say to me, how you suffered for your sanity, how you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they did not know how. Perhaps they'll listen now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors Changing Hue

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Peace Out. Title and summary from "Vincent."
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

She was never hideous. That was our flaw, our need to see ugliness in what we couldn't understand or explain, so we marked her over with our shame and our rage and turned her monstrous because we could not accept the portion of blame that was our own. We wanted to give our freedom away in exchange for what we thought of as peace. And it _was_ peaceful. We thought the same thoughts, felt the same feelings, all of them hers and all of them easier than thinking or feeling for ourselves.

I could not say this to any of us who fought so hard to defeat her. How could I? Who among them would admit to this? Not Gunn, so angry over what he thought of as violation. Not Fred who was so hurt when the fairy queen was revealed as the wicked stepmother. And never, ever, Angel, who hated her for taking away our choices, never realizing he left us so few choices himself. He'd lost his child, after all, and his one hope for family that accepted him without condition. I would have spoken to Connor, if I could, but none of us knew where he was, and I wasn't sure I had the right to do further damage to the boy.

I tried, of course, in those hours before her deadline, the scar on my throat not reminder enough of the price I paid for not keeping to my place in the background.

Lorne was most sympathetic, and most pragmatic. "It is what it is, my little jammie dodger." He shuddered dramatically. "I liked it, don't get me wrong, but Mother Jasmine's ploughman's lunch of dining on real ploughmen left a bit to be desired."

"She wasn't ugly," I said.

"Of course not." He patted my hand. "Cordelia's daughter could never be ugly. She had that much of her mother in her."

Not enough, I thought. Because Cordelia wouldn't have lost as easily as Jasmine did. Cordelia would have fought harder. Cordelia would never have allowed us to think her ugly, not even to salve our pride. "Even at the end," I said, trying to explain.

"At the end." He looked at me sadly. "At the end, we saw her for what she was."

Perhaps we didn't. Perhaps we saw only ourselves, just as we had all along. And perhaps my own aversion to looking in the mirror of late contributed to what I'm sure he saw as misplaced sympathy for the Power who tried to enslave us, and very nearly succeeded.

"We're all trapped in our own way. Perhaps Jasmine was as trapped as any of us."

He shrugged and put down his empty glass, then rested his hand on my shoulder. The weight of it was somewhat comforting. "Get some rest, sunshine. You look like you could use it."

She was beautiful, I thought, as he walked away. Beautiful. I closed my eyes briefly in mourning, then walked out into the clear night wishing for the peace I had done my best to destroy.


End file.
